Revamped
by thesebrokenthings
Summary: Edward and Bella, in the same story, with a little bit different writing. They're in more of a realistic atmosphere and characteristics of the vampires are different, such as sparkling. Still the fantastic story with more angst and intensity.
1. Chapter 1

_Disclaimer: I do not own the Twilight Series, written by Stephanie Meyer. I mean, I do own copies of the books, but… ;D _

_A/n; Don't think that I don't like the books, but there was a lot more that I thought could have been done with them, and this is me messing around with ideas. I liked the books a lot when I was younger, and I just wanted to turn them into something with a little extra umph. I wanted it to be a little more of a teen experience with a little more detail, you know? Here goes my attempt at vampires and werewolves, and cheers to you Stephanie Meyer! _

**Preface**

Dying isn't just something that you think about – or want to for that matter – while you're still living a perfectly healthy life. It's something that I should have thought about due to my situation for the past few months, but I still didn't think that I would actually die. Not in this way at least. It didn't even cross my mind.

I stared at the hunter from across the long room of mirrors, into his dark eyes. The look of contempt on his face would have made me angry, if I wasn't staring into the eyes of death.

I regret leaving this place, leaving my family and friends behind. Dying, moving on without them, and leaving them without me. Surely this was a good way today, noble even. To die in the place of someone that I loved, somebody other than me, it's an act of selflessness. It had to count for something. Maybe it would erase all of the mistakes I've made, and make everyone see that I'm a good person.

I never wanted this to happen. I know that had I never come to Forks, if I never fell in love with all of the people around me, if I never was curious and nosy enough to get into other people's business, I wouldn't be facing death. I wouldn't be sprawled on the floor in this pain. For some reason, as terrified and hurt as I was, I couldn't bring myself to regret anything. It was such a dream to me, such a terrifying, fantastic dream. When life hands you something that climbs high over your wall of expectations, it doesn't really make any sense to regret a thing when it comes to an end. When things do come to an end, it doesn't make sense to regret it then, because you can't change anything anyways.


	2. Chapter 2

A/n: Dialogue is very similar to the book… I mean, Charlie is so simple, that I really can't change how he says some things. It'll get better as the story continues and I don't have to deal with their awkward-ness. :P

My mom drove me to the airport the day that my flight would leave, with the windows rolled down so I could get my last taste of the warm, Arizona breeze. It was seventy-five degrees; the sky was open and a perfect blue, unscathed by clouds on this beautiful day. I was wearing my favorite sleeveless shirt as a farewell gesture, and a parka was my carry-on. I would need it for where I was going.

There was a town in the northwest region of Washington State, named Forks. It was a small town that was under constant watch of the dark clouds and rain that formed there. The rain falls in this town more than any other place in the United States. My mom escaped from this gloomy town when I was just a few months old, and it was this town that I was forced to visit my dad for a month over the summer every year until I was fourteen. It was then which I said that I no longer wanted to go to the dreary place and compromised to a two-week vacation in California with Charlie, my dad.

I was now exiling myself to this place of torture where I would spend the school year with my dad... The whole, entirety of the school year. I detested Forks. I loathed it, and now I had to live there.

Not only did I not want to move to Forks, but I didn't want to leave Phoenix either. I loved the vigorous city and the blistering heat. I loved the sun, and now I'd never see it.

"Bella," My mom said to me for what must be the hundredth time. "You really don't have to do this."

My mom looks like an older version of me, with short hair and laugh lines that tell stories of her happy youth. I panicked a little bit when she asked me this – how could I leave my erratic, hare-brained mother to fend for herself? She would have Phil, of course, so I know that there would be food for her to eat, a roof over her head, gas in the car, and someone to looks after her. Someone would be there if she ever got lost. It's always easier to be the one who's watching over somebody else, and making sure that everything is going right.

"I want to go," I lied, trying to make her feel better. I'd always been a bad liar, but after repeating this one so often, it was almost convincing.

She offered a pity smile. "Tell Charlie I said hi."

"I will."

"I'll see you soon," She insisted. "You can come home whenever you'd like, and I'll come right back, whenever you need me."

"Don't worry about me," I urged. "It'll be great, living with Charlie. I love you, Mom." She brought me into a tight embrace for a moment, and then I got onto the plane and she was gone. Everything was gone.

It's five hours and two different planes to get up to Port Angeles, and then an hour car ride back down to Forks. I didn't mind flying alone at all; the thought of an hour alone in the car with Charlie was what worried me.

He was honestly pleased to hear that I wanted – or needed – to come lived with him for the first time in my entire life with any degree of permanence. He registered me for high school already and was going to help me buy a car.

Surely, though, it was going to be awkward with Charlie. Neither of us were very social, and we didn't really know what to talk about when we were together. He was still pretty confused at my decision to actually go to Forks – as was I, really – but he accepted it. I really didn't make my distaste for Forks unclear, and neither did my mother.

When I landed, it was raining. It wasn't some omen that some people may see it as, it was just unavoidable. I kissed the sun good-bye along with my mom and my hometown.

The small plane landed out side, and when I stumbled out of it, Charlie pulled me into an awkward, one-armed hug. He was waiting at his cruiser, as expected. One of the primary reasons to my wanting my own car was because I refused to be driven around in a cop car. Nothing slows down traffic like a cop does.

"It's good to see you, Bells," He smiled and steadied me. "You haven't changed much. How's Renee?"

"It's good to see you too, Dad. Mom's fine." My mom told me that I shouldn't call him Charlie to his face.

I only had a few bags that we needed to stuff into the cruiser. I basically needed to get a whole new wardrobe for this climate in Forks. My clothes were all thin for the hotter weather in Arizona. So it was easy to get into the car without having to stuff suitcases in.

"I found a really good car for you, Bell. Real cheap, too," Charlie announced when we buckled ourselves up and he began to back his way out of the parking lot.

"What kind of car?" I asked, wondering about how he said "good car for you" opposed to just "a good car."

"Well, it's a truck. A Chevy actually."

"Where'd you get it?"

"Do you remember Billy Black from La Push?"

"No." He frowned slightly.

"He used to go fishing with us during the summer, when you'd come up to visit. With his son, Jacob?" Right. I tried to push those kinds of memories – painful, unwanted, unnecessary memories - to the back of my mind to the point where they almost didn't exist. Remembering the people in them was almost impossible. I sat still.

"Well, anyways, he's in a wheel chair now, so he can't drive. He offered to sell me his old truck cheap." Old.

"How old? What year is it?" I could see that he was nervous about me asking this question from his change of expression.

"Well Billy and his son, they've done a lot of work on the engine. They're really good at that kind of stuff, mechanics. It's really only a few years old."

I hoped that he didn't think that I was still a child and would fall for that so easily. I mean, I may not be into cars, but even I know what happens when you buy old cars. "When did he buy it?"

"Uhm… 1984… I think."

"And he bought it new?"

"Well, uh, no. I think that it was a new car in the sixties- or late fifties the earliest." He frowned at the look that I was giving him.

"Dad, I don't know anything about cars, and I sure can't have any problems with it. And I, or, we can't afford a mechanic if anything goes wrong. I don't think-…"

"Bella, really. The thing runs great!" The thing. That was a great name for it.

"So, how cheap is cheap?"

"Well I kind of bought it already Bells."

"Oh, you didn't need to do that Dad. I could've bought myself a car."

"It's alright. I haven't really been around you much. I want you to be happy here." My father passed down this trait of feeling awkward when expressing feelings out loud to people. So he stared straight ahead at the road as he said this, and I stared straight ahead when I responded.

"Thanks Dad, I appreciate it. It was really nice of you." It was already impossible to make me happy in Forks. I guess with a car I could get away and he didn't need to suffer as much with me.

"You're welcome," He mumbled and blushed.

The drive home was basically silent. We stared out the windows and didn't say much, maybe a comment about the weather, which was just wet and gross. He enjoyed it, or at least tolerated it, and I didn't, so there wasn't much of any conversation. Two different opinions.

At first, as we drive, the green seems beautiful. It's everywhere because of the rain. Everything is blooming in the rain, canopies of leaves hanging over the roads, trunks of trees covered with moss, and weeds and ferns covering the ground. There was a lot of forest around here. But as we continued driving it was too green.

It was like a dirty fish tank.

It made me feel almost claustrophobic; I felt as if it was surrounding me, and it started to give me a headache. Suddenly I yearned for some sunlight. When we finally arrived at Charlie's, I was happy to get out of the car and breathe some fresh air. He still lived at the same house he did when my parents were still married. It was a small, two-bedroom, but not too bad for a single man. Single. At least, I hoped he was single; I didn't want to walk in and have some random woman waiting there. He was too awkward though.

Parked in front of his house was an old, faded, red truck with an old frame. It was clearly from the 60's as Charlie had said. To my own surprise, and probably his, I loved it. My face lit up.

"Wow, Dad, thanks! You were right, I love it." I caught a small smile on his face when he saw that I was pleased. At least my days wouldn't be too horrible, as long as the thing ran. I wouldn't get rained on walking to school.

"Welcome, Bells." He was embarrassed again.

It only took one trip for both of us to carry my bags to my room. It faced over our front yard, and was my room when I was born, and I stayed here every time that I visited. There was a small bed and a desk with a computer. There was still a rocking chair here from my baby days. In the house, there was one bathroom. It worried me because that meant I had to share with Charlie, but I tried not to worry myself too much.

Charlie is just like me, and one of the greatest things, is that he doesn't hover, which would've only made things awkward. He didn't try to stay and make conversation, just left me alone to settle myself and unpack my few things. Being alone, I didn't have to smile and act like I was elated about my situation, because obviously, I wasn't. I mean, I wasn't thoroughly upset about everything, just a tad bit upset. Who wouldn't if they had to start over their junior year?

I stared out the window, remembering the few months over my life that I've spent here. A little over a year. I let a few tears escape, but I wasn't in the mood to sob. I would save that for later so that Charlie wouldn't ask any questions. He probably wouldn't anyways, knowing him. But you never know what he might pull, like calling my mother.

School was probably the one thing that frightened me the most, and upset me the most, about moving to Forks. The high school consisted of three hundred and fifty-eight students – including me – which meant there wasn't much room for me to hide. A lot of people think that big schools cause bigger problems, but for me, that's just what I need. Everyone here had basically grown up together, and I was the intruder. I was the weird girl who was from the big city.

I could use this to my advantage if I was something that people expected me to be. Honestly, I wasn't at all. Most girls that are from a city from the south – where it's always warm – are tan, sporty, and maybe even blonde. But no, I'm pale as can be, completely un-athletic – quite the nerd actually – and not a single thing going on for the attractive looks.

I'm ivory-skinned with ugly, mud-colored brown eyes. Despite the constant sun, my skin wouldn't darken, my hair wouldn't lighten. I was boring, really. I was prone to humiliating myself on a daily basis, because I'm so clumsy. I don't even have the hand-eye coordination needed to play sports.

Not only would I physically never fit in, but I wasn't too good with people. I didn't relate to people too well. Actually, I don't think that I get along with any people at all. My mom and I were as close as two people could get, yet we were never in sync, never on quite the same page. I guess nobody thought the way that I do. Maybe I'm seeing things differently than everyone else, or maybe there's something wrong with my brain.

It didn't really matter why I'm so different from everyone else. All that matters is that I have to deal with it tomorrow.


End file.
